


Lazy Saturday Morning

by genus_species



Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-27 02:13:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genus_species/pseuds/genus_species
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m not used to this.”</p>
<p>One brown eye cracks open. “Not used to what?”</p>
<p>She gestures expansively, indicating the king-sized bed, the spacious apartment, and William Darcy’s bare torso. Both his eyes are open now, and he’s smiling. He reaches up and pulls her down to him.</p>
<p>Pure fluff, just a small scene that has been batting around my brain... Hope you enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lazy Saturday Morning

She likes waking up not alone. The first few times, she woke completely, sat up in sudden startlement. Darcy—William—stirred sleepily beside her. 

“What?” he said.

“I’m not used to this.”

One brown eye cracks open. “Not used to what?”

She gestures expansively, indicating the king-sized bed, the spacious apartment, and William Darcy’s bare torso.

Both his eyes are open now, and he’s smiling. He reaches up and pulls her down to him.

 

Now, she wakes up slowly, to warmth. The sun streaming through the cracks in the blinds, highlighting stripes of skin. The slumbering heat of William beside her. She burrows closer, drapes one arm over him.

Boyfriends, she decides, are vastly preferable to body pillows in the cuddling department, and falls back asleep.

 

When she wakes up, he’s on his laptop, scrolling through some vastly pretentious transmedia blog with one hand while he pets her hair with the other.

“Good morning.”

She yawns in reply, and props her head up on one elbow.

“I thought you’d never wake up.”

“It’s Saturday. The traditional day of repentance for Friday night.”

He laughs. “I almost left you here, and went for a bike ride.”

She sits up and makes a face at him. “Do you want company?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

She stands. “If there’s coffee and pastries at the end of it, I’ll do anything you like.”

He shuts the laptop. “Anything? Really?”

“Coffee first, though.” She rummages in the muddled clothes for her bra, then steals one of his Harvard t-shirts. It comes down halfway to her knees.

“I quite like that look on you,” he says, shoving keys and wallet into his back pocket.

She stretches up to kiss his cheek. “Lovely compliments. Coffee.” She pulls on leggings, shoves her feet into sneakers.

He locks the door behind them.


End file.
